


Rather be tied up with calls and not strings

by silvervelour



Category: Canada's Drag Race RPF, RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: Estate agent Priyanka, F/F, Girliiiieees, Professional business gal Lemon, background jankie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28884066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvervelour/pseuds/silvervelour
Summary: Priyanka being Priyanka, she expects at least the smallest reaction. A smile to fall, a giggle to be severed in half, anything. Maybe it’s egotistical, to believe she has that much power, but Priyanka also isn’t entirely delusional. She knows that she looks good, looks every bit the part of the business woman she is. To most, it’s intimidating, but to little miss yellow fucking sunshine she clearly isn’t. Priyanka keeps her eyes trained on the princess cut emeralds that lay within the girls irises, and clears her throat when she becomes impatient for an answer.The girl licks her lips, sparkling gloss smudging.“Just bringing the party, gorg-”. She flips her hair behind her shoulders.Priyanka catches a whiff of Jasmine, roses, before she’s able to smell the mint of her gum when she steps closer.“-I’m Lemon”.
Relationships: Lemon/Priyanka (Drag Race)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 49





	1. 2014

**Author's Note:**

> Helllooo everybody! So,,, I wrote some lemyanka? An actual full multi ch lemyanka? 
> 
> This is technically part of my milf Jackie universe, but rest assured you don't have to have read that one to delve into this fic! I've had sooo much fun kind of changing up my usual writing ~style~ for this a little bit, so I hope you like it!!
> 
> Feel free to let me know your thoughts babies!
> 
> Title taken from 7 rings by our gal Ari!

Priyanka starts the day at a newly sold house upstate. 

And ends it sprawled on the couch of her penthouse apartment in Manhattan. 

In between, however, a couple of things happen. 

She talks to her boss Jackie at lunch, and they discuss the topic of Jackie’s maybe, _possible_ girlfriend Jan over lattes. It’s funny to Priyanka, who’s known Jackie since they were both employees at the same company. Jackie owns her own real estate company now, and Priyanka is more her friend than she is her right hand woman. They have a rapport that makes business easy and work even simpler, and it’s why Priyanka jokes about Jackie tripping over a hot, young interior designer - who of _course_ is fucking blonde. Jackie doesn’t deny it and it only fuels Priyanka further. She calls Jackie a dyke while tapping her short nails on the table and Jackie does nothing apart from roll her eyes. 

“You can’t even deny it!”. Priyanka accuses, a finger pointing lamely in Jackie’s direction. 

Jackie grins around a mouthful of the sandwich that she’s in the middle of eating, and then shrugs her shoulders. 

“Why would I?-”. Jackie asks. 

“-Beats still sulking when tinder dates don’t work out like _some_ of us”. She jibes. 

Priyanka’s jaw drops. The bitch, she thinks, what an actual bitch. She tosses a grape from her lunch towards Jackie, and Jackie dodges it with a chuckle. Her lips are curled into a smirk, and Priyanka would wipe it off for her if her salary didn’t rely on staying on Jackie’s good side. Jackie reclines in her seat, looking ever the put together grey haired goddess that Priyanka likes to affectionately call her. She’s got the sleeves of her suit shirt pushed up to her elbows, unbuttoned to allow her to do so. Priyanka had copied her earlier in the day, because it might only be early spring but the weather outside keeps getting hot, hotter. 

She’s begun to notice it in the mornings, and it’s reaffirmed later that day. 

When she leaves the house that she’s been working on selling with Jackie, the sun is still out. It’s a glowing orb in the sky that leaves green dots in her vision if she focuses on it for too long, and it has her breaking into a sweat beneath her blazer that she’s begrudgingly pulled back on. The sleeves of it feel too tight, the red fabric forming rings of fire around her wrists. She unclasps her watch on her right hand only to move it to her left, and slumps further into the back seat of the car that she has to be in for the next two hours. Her driver smiles warmly at her through the rearview mirror but Priyanka is digging her heels into the carpet at her feet. 

She’s due to host an open house in The Hamptons. Jackie had talked her into it with the promise of the following day away from the office, but in all honesty Priyanka had agreed because she knows that their events management team never let them down with the drinks table. Priyanka had hosted her last one just after Valentines Day, and she recalls drowning her single sorrows in flutes of chardonnay. Jackie had done nothing but mock her hangover the following day, but Priyanka couldn’t blame the bitch for it. She’d been in a state, admittedly, though she hopes this one will prove to be a little less painful for both her heart and her liver. 

“We’re here, ma’am”. The driver informs her. 

_Already?_ Priyanka wants to ask, but she saves herself the embarrassment by simply nodding her head, picking up her clutch bag and letting the door slam closed behind her. 

*****

Nicky - a furniture designer that Priyanka and Jackie have worked with for years - flits around the living area as if she’s part of a pinball machine. 

Her red bottoms clack against the wooden floorboards, and Priyanka follows them into the depths of the kitchen diner, then the expansive conservatory. The white tiles are glowing blue from the ceiling spotlights, and it makes Nicky’s short blonde hair appear icy. Priyanka listens as she talks, skates along each of Nicky’s smooth segues. She tells Priyanka about the potential clientele that will be attending, as well as investors who may need a swing in the right direction. They make their ways back to the entrance hallway - it’s one of the grander ones that Priyanka has seen in her time - and then Nicky slowly slips a glass of white into her waiting hands. 

“Nuh uh, not so fast ma chérie-”. Nicky shakes her head. 

“-No getting white girl wasted tonight, understood?”. She grins. 

_Fucking Jackie_ , Priyanka muses. 

“First of all, never put me and the word white in the same sentence again-”. Priyanka takes the glass. 

“-Second of all, what has Jackie been sayin’ about me?”. She grins. 

Nicky shakes her head, then holds both of her hands up in surrender. She takes a step back, laughs openly, then guides the first arrivals through to the living area with Priyanka at her side. Priyanka smiles, eager to impress, and clinks her glass professionally against others’ when she’s learnt is appropriate to do so. Nicky does the same, and then when they’re alone again she smirks, wide and cocksure. 

“Nothing bad, nothing bad”. Nicky promises.

And even with her goddamn flawless French-American accent, Priyanka isn’t quite sure she believes her. 

But she lets it slide, if only this once, In favour of gulping back the rest of her glass. 

*****

Everything goes to plan.

If being distracted by a pretty blonde that crashes the event is the plan. 

Priyanka first spots her when she’s drinking her second glass of wine, and the sight of the girl's sparkly yellow cocktail dress is enough to push her towards her third. She walks through the hallway with her friend - presumably - in tow, confidence radiating from her in a way that has Priyanka’s fingers slipping on the rim of her glass. Nicky, who’s standing next to her, laughs low in the back of her throat. She nudges her elbow into Priyanka’s side, and nods her head to where Priyanka is already looking. 

In her mind, she nicknames one yellow and the other pink. 

“Who is _that_?”. Nicky grins. 

Her eyes are on pink while Priyanka is only able to focus on yellow. 

“I have no fuckin’ idea”. 

Beyond how drawn she is to yellow, Priyanka’s first instinct is to get them to leave. They’re too bright for the blacks and navies that circle the rooms, too loud for the hushed chatter that’s going on around them. Both girls are all wide smiles and raucous giggles, an injection of youth that makes Priyanka feel lighter than she would like it to. _Just go and talk to them, tell them to leave_ , she tries to convince herself. They both appear tipsy enough already, and Jackie has warned her enough times about unwanted party crashers. Realistically, Priyanka’s stupid and unrelenting horniness should have nothing to do with breaking those unspoken rules. 

But it does. 

So she walks over to yellow as pink saunters over to Nicky, and props her hip casually against the wall next to her.

“Are you lost?-”. Priyanka tilts her head. 

She fights the smirk that’s curling at her lips. 

“-Clubs down the street, baby doll”. 

Priyanka being Priyanka, she expects at least the smallest reaction. A smile to fall, a giggle to be severed in half, _anything_. Maybe it’s egotistical, to believe she has that much power, but Priyanka also isn’t entirely delusional. She knows that she looks good, looks every bit the part of the business woman she is. To most, it’s intimidating, but to little miss yellow fucking sunshine she clearly isn’t. Priyanka keeps her eyes trained on the princess cut emeralds that lay within the girls irises, and clears her throat when she becomes impatient for an answer. 

The girl licks her lips, sparkling gloss smudging. 

“Just bringing the party, gorg-”. She flips her hair behind her shoulders. 

Priyanka catches a whiff of Jasmine, roses, before she’s able to smell the mint of her gum when she steps closer. 

“-I’m Lemon”. 

_Lemon_. 

Not yellow. 

_Lemon_. 

Priyanka thinks it’s the dumbest name she’s ever heard, and it’s exactly why she keeps sweet talking her.

*****

It’s Izzy’s idea to ditch everything for the weekend. 

She raises the idea on Friday morning, and by that afternoon they’ve booked a room at _The Menhaden_ in The Hamptons. They both have Saturday and Sunday off from their gigs as personal shoppers at _Tiffany & Co. _, and Lemon is, for once, excited to swap Fifth Avenue for the coast. She packs an overnight bag - really it’s more of a full suitcase - and then when evening is close to falling, Izzy picks her up from her apartment. They’ve borrowed Izzy’s friend Mik’s car, and the evidence of her and her girlfriend Rosé is littered throughout it in the forms of pink hair ties, crumpled up candy wrappers. 

“I’m so excited!-”. Izzy drawls, one hand guiding the steering wheel. 

“-Girlies time is long overdue, gorg”. 

They arrive just before seven, and spend almost two hours drinking the mini bar dry. When their makeup is retouched and hair has been styled, they dress themselves in matching mini dresses. Lemon’s is yellow whereas Izzy’s is pink, because they have a brand and they _will_ maintain it. They’re in for a weekend full of wine and whimsy, and the thought of it makes Lemon giddy as she dusts highlight across her clavicles. Izzy is her co-worker, her friend and her damn sister in another life, Lemon thinks. They flow easily, in between sips of pomegranate gin and tonic water. 

“Does this place even _have_ clubs?”. Lemon dramatises. 

They’re clicking along the sidewalk in their heels, and it’s something she’s been wondering for at least thirty seconds now, if not a full forty five. 

“Babe, of course they do-”. Izzy scoffs, her hands waving around wildly. 

“-This isn’t fuckin’, Oklahoma”. 

Lemon snorts, and then links her arm with Izzy’s. They avoid uneven cracks on the ground, skirt around them as they talk. As far as a destination goes, they don’t have one in mind, only that they’ll know when they find it. Izzy seems to come to that conclusion before Lemon does, and it happens when she lays eyes on a house at the end of the block. It’s at least three stories high, a skyscraper amongst bungalows, and there are people congregated in the front yard as well as the entrance way. Izzy jokes that she’s able to smell the free bar from across the street, but Lemon isn’t so certain. 

Crashing an open house would be new, even for her, but Izzy looks determined. 

“Come on, spoil sport-”. She tugs on Lemon’s hand.

“-Maybe you’ll even bag a rich wife”. 

Lemon then turns to Izzy with a grin, because several points have been made. 

“Why didn’t you just say that?”. 

*****

All eyes flock to Lemon and Izzy when they step through the front door and into the foyer. 

They’re handed glasses of white wine with accompanying uncertain smiles, but neither of them are bothered for too long. It feels good to be the drop of chaos in a sea that’s evidently too calm, and Lemon relishes in the attention and the lingering gazes, even if she doesn’t care for more than half of them. The men in suits are - well firstly they’re men, but they also remind Lemon too much of the corporate assholes that she’s had to deal with for years. Most of the women are far too straight-looking for her to even consider, and others look like they’d be drop dead _boring_. 

Short blonde in an ugly curtain fabric style dress - no. 

The gaggle of interns screeching near the kitchen - absolutely not. 

A platinum suit wearing dyke - probably more Izzy’s style than hers. 

Honey haired tall woman in red - oh, _maybe_. 

She’s looking in Lemon’s direction. 

In her mind, Lemon nicknames her fire. She calls her friend ice, because it seems fitting, and then mumbles a _fuck_ under her breath. Izzy doesn’t hear her - at least Lemon hopes she doesn’t - because she’s too busy trying to make ice melt while Lemon lets fire eat her alive. They walk further into the room, still swigging from glasses and waving intermittently at people who pass them by without so much as a smile. Rude as fuck, Lemon thinks, before she reminds herself that she’s the one crashing and not them. Still, her point stands. 

The woman is hot and Lemon is feeling just a tiny bit gay. 

“Hellooooo everybody”. Izzy cheers, and Lemon has to bite back a laugh. 

As does the woman who’s still looking her way. 

*****

Priyanka learns that Lemon’s friend's name is Izzy. 

And Izzy - she spends most of the night hanging off of Nicky’s arm. 

Priyanka blesses them both with a knowing wink, before Izzy - an entire fucking character - shoots her one in return. It’s something akin to approval, Priyanka thinks, a go ahead to lean further into Lemon’s space. Priyanka doesn’t do so right away because she’s got people to talk to, deals to explore, but as the night goes on she focuses less on business and a hell of a lot more on pleasure. When she’s not talking to Lemon, they’re looking at each other, and when they aren’t looking at each other from across the room, they’re flirting blatantly. 

“Tell me-”. Priyanka muses. 

Lemon has her back resting against the wall in the kitchen, and Priyanka’s hand is planted next to her head. 

“-Do you do this often?”. She grins.

The house is slowly clearing out. There are lipstick stain adorned wine glasses strewn across surfaces, and half empty bottles of wine gathered around them. The front door clicks open and slams closed with each couple, every group that leave, and Priyanka would feel bad about bidding them farewell if it wasn’t for Lemon’s touches. They trail up and down her arms, acrylic nails grazing her skin through the fabric of her blazer. Lemon cocks her head to the side, licks across her lips. Priyanka wants to kiss what’s left of her gloss off of them, but then Lemon giggles airily. 

“Crashing fancy open houses?”. Lemon asks. 

Priyanka swiftly shakes her head. 

Lemon is _quick_ , she notes. A smart airhead. Priyanka has to actually put in some work to keep up with her, and it makes a change to the usual girls that she gets hanging around her because of her job. Lemon isn’t some fresh out of college intern who detests working as a secretary at the company, and she isn’t an annoying daughter of a New York heiress who Priyanka has been tasked to find a vacation home for. Priyanka doesn’t think she’d be much interested in digging for Priyanka’s gold either, even if her ears and neck are decorated with it. 

Lemon is - _actually_ , Priyanka doesn’t know what she is, doesn’t know what she does or where she comes from. 

But she certainly is hot, and she guesses that that’s enough for the night.

“No, hooking up with hot estate agents”. Priyanka beams. 

Lemon’s eyes roll, but in that moment Priyanka knows that she’s got her. 

“Who said anything about hooking up?”. Lemon crooks an eyebrow.

 _The little shit_ , Priyanka thinks. Lemon is smirking up at her - she’s a couple of inches shorter than Priyanka - and is dragging a finger down from the small sapphire pendant that Priyanka wears to the top button of her blazer. She presses a finger to Priyanka’s sternum, and Priyanka’s eyes flicker back down to look at her. They widen briefly before Lemon grins, her fingers deftly unhooking the button. The house is almost empty now, with the exception of a few stragglers, but Priyanka almost can’t quite believe Lemon’s bravery, the chaotic audacity. 

“You crazy bitch”. She snorts. 

Lemon giggles once more at her words, and she takes them as Priyanka means them; in a way that’s oddly affectionate. 

“Don’t even try to complain”. 

Nicky is the last to leave, her arm wrapped firmly around Izzy’s waist. She shouts a goodbye from the living room, and it means that Priyanka is forced to leave the horny little haven that she’s created with Lemon. She walks towards the both of them with a grin - Izzy and Lemon are already sharing a look that says _enjoy getting fucked!_ \- and then makes a show out of high fiving Nicky. It’s a cheers to a successful evening, a night well spent, and they all laugh together as the door closes.

It’s just Priyanka and Lemon then, and the keys to lock up afterwards. 

They make their way back to the kitchen, where Priyanka crowds Lemon in against one of the cabinets. 

“Can you kiss me now?”. Lemon huffs petulantly, lips forming a pout. 

Priyanka’s hands are on her waist, pinching and ruffling the fabric of her dress. 

“Just kiss? Are you sure you’ll be able to resist me?”. 

Lemon winds her fingers into Priyanka’s hair, and pulls her down until they’re a breath apart. 

“You’re actually insufferable”. 

The remnants of Lemon’s gloss taste like watermelon, and it’s a sweet aftertaste to the dry white that Priyanka’s been drinking all night. Their lips glide with ease, and Priyanka feels like making out with Lemon is like getting sunburnt on a tropical vacation. It’s new, thrilling, and stings just a little. Lemon mewls into her mouth, nails scratching at Priyanka’s scalp. It’s a faint scratch that she leans into, and it’s ultimately what has her hooking her hands under Lemon’s thighs, lifting her onto the granite countertop. Priyanka knows that it must be cold against Lemon’s skin but after gasping shortly, she relaxes into it. 

“Thought you were all talk”. Lemon jibes, pulling away to heave in a breath. 

She’s gutsy, wanton. 

“Shut up-”. Priyanka grunts. 

“-Be a good girl, hm?”. 

Lemon, with her legs wrapped around Priyanka’s waist, seems to listen. She nods her head as they keep kissing, and whines when Priyanka’s lips begin their descent down the path of her neck. Her teeth drag against Lemon’s pulse point, and she feels more than she hears the gulp that follows. The fingers that are still tugging on the roots of Priyanka’s hair slowly move to her shoulders, and it’s a hint that Priyanka latches onto without any further guidance. Lemon pushes her down down down, and Priyanka only resists long enough to palm at Lemon’s hard nipples through her dress. It pulls a string of moans from Lemon’s throat, and they tie knots around Priyanka’s thoughts. 

_Fucking stupidly hot blonde bitch_ , Priyanka snorts. 

She bunches Lemon’s dress up around her waist, kicks her heels off so she’s able to kneel on the tiled floor. Lemon leans back on her elbows, legs bending back towards her chest, and Priyanka smirks at the sight of her yellow, lacy underwear. It’s a confirmation of what Priyanka had already known - that she’d gone out with the intention of finding someone exactly like Priyanka for the night. Priyanka grins up at her, and throws preamble out of the window in favour of pressing her tongue flat to the wet patch on the sheer patterns covering Lemon’s pussy. 

Lemon’s hips buck, and then her thighs clamp down around Priyanka’s head. 

“Easy-”. Priyanka warns, planting her hands securely on Lemon’s ass. 

“-What did I say about being a good girl for me?”. She taunts. 

“I-”. Lemon gasps. 

“-I can be good”. 

Priyanka is working her panties down her legs, and leaves them dangling off of one ankle. They get caught on one of Lemon’s heels, but it doesn’t seem important to spend any longer not touching her. Lemon doesn’t seem to particularly care either, and she spreads her legs further, all for Priyanka. Priyanka delves into her in the same way that she would the ocean; with the intention of cooling down only to get hotter, wetter. 

Lemon tastes as sweet as the gloss on her lips. She writhes against Priyanka’s mouth, whispers Priyanka’s name into the quiet of the room. The shell of the house is still buzzing with the energy of the evening, and it’s as if they’ve both absorbed it. Their movements are frantic, heated, and Lemon is so wet that Priyanka is able to easily slip two fingers inside of her. She curls them, follows each thrust of Lemon’s hips. Lemon’s body language is fluent, and it tells Priyanka exactly what she needs and when she needs it. 

“There, baby doll?”. Priyanka checks, just for good measure. 

She knows just by how responsive Lemon is that she’s close. 

“Mhmmm-”. Lemon squeaks. 

“ _-Right_ there”. 

So Priyanka doubles her efforts until Lemon is clenching around her fingers, the volume of her moans making the glasses on the countertops rattle. 

*****

Priyanka starts the next day at _another_ newly sold house upstate. 

Jackie is there just as she was the day before, only this time her hand is linked with Jan’s as they enter the hallway. Priyanka lets out an audible _aw_ at the sight of them, even if they are nauseatingly adorable for this early in the morning. Jan blushes but Jackie simply grins, and then the floor is open for Priyanka to talk. She tells Jackie about the successful open house, and then the even more successful _afterparty_ as Priyanka has taken to calling it. Jackie listens intently, as does Jan, but then there are questions that Priyanka doesn’t really have the answers to. 

“Was that a one time thing?”. Jackie asks her. 

And Priyanka swears that it is. 

But then it happens again. 

And again. 

And _again_. 


	2. 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They date - kind of - for over a year. 
> 
> Priyanka never gives a name to what they have, but neither does Lemon. They just know that they’re exclusive, and something, and that’s enough for them. With ease, they make their lives overlap. Priyanka meets Lemon’s girlies and in turn Lemon gets introduced to Priyanka’s smaller circle. Of course there’s Jackie, Nicky, but there’s also Bobo who Priyanka has known since college, and Rita who used to work alongside herself and Jackie before ditching the workforce for inheritance. Bobo only makes one sly dig at Lemon - something about being as fake as her hair colour - and Priyanka guesses that it’s as close to approval that she’s going to get from her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch2 gaydies!! Thank you so much for the love on the first ch, I truly do love these gals. I hope you enjoy!!<3

They date -  _ kind of _ \- for over a year. 

Priyanka never gives a name to what they have, but neither does Lemon. They just know that they’re exclusive, and  _ something _ , and that’s enough for them. With ease, they make their lives overlap. Priyanka meets Lemon’s girlies and in turn Lemon gets introduced to Priyanka’s smaller circle. Of course there’s Jackie, Nicky, but there’s also Bobo who Priyanka has known since college, and Rita who used to work alongside herself and Jackie before ditching the workforce for inheritance. Bobo only makes one sly dig at Lemon - something about being as fake as her hair colour - and Priyanka guesses that it’s as close to approval that she’s going to get from her. 

*****

Sometime in the summer, Priyanka buys her dream home. 

And the first time Lemon sees it, she does a double take, then a triple, quadruple take. 

It’s fucking huge, stupidly grand and pristine, and not at all what Lemon had expected from her despite having heard Priyanka talk about it for months on end. It’s the perfect picture of what Priyanka has built for herself - a Manhattan penthouse with floor to ceiling windows, an open plan living area that stretches out across the skyline. Lemon steps over the threshold of it with her dog Hibbi on a leash and arms full of shopping bags. She’s always been a firm believer in treating herself, and she’s able to do that more now that she’s been promoted to head office. 

“This is not what I pictured”. Lemon laughs. 

She drops her bags in the entryway, unclips Hibbi’s leash. He’s a tiny little beige pomeranian, and he stretches before pattering around the coffee table, over to the window where he stares at his reflection in the glass. His head tilts back and forth, his mouth hanging open in a pant. Priyanka watches both him and Lemon from her spot on the couch, but then gets up to help Lemon shuffle her bags further into the room. Lemon thanks her with a grin and then slumps back into the suede of the couch cushions. They’re comfy, plush, and she expresses as much by kicking her heels off. 

“What  _ did _ you picture?”. Priyanka grins, settling on the couch next to Lemon. 

“Not this!-”. Lemon gestures around them. 

“-Something like, cute and… old”. She smirks. 

“ _ Lemondra! _ ”. 

Priyanka gasps, a mock offence that Lemon is able to read pretty well, she thinks. It’s been over a year since she’d first been acquainted with Priyanka’s weird and wacky ways, and each day feels like another lesson in how she works. They’re building up as a collection on the Priyanka shelf in her mind - favourite foods (anything West Indian, preferably cooked by her mom), favourite time of day (early evening), what she’d be doing if she wasn’t an estate agent (kids TV, apparently). 

They laugh about it together, Lemon leaning into Priyanka’s space and Priyanka allowing her to do so. Lemon’s skirt is tight around her shins, and she pushes it up to her knees so that she’s able to fold herself neatly into Priyanka’s lap. Priyanka’s hands move to cup her ass, but this time Lemon doesn’t push it any further. She’s content to just sit, laugh, and bask in Priyanka’s company. Lemon knows that she’s proud of her new home, is proud to show it off, and it’s why she keeps it light. 

Well, light in Lemon style. 

“So… how much issss your salary?”. Lemon beams. 

Instead of shoving her away like Lemon had expected, Priyanka pulls her closer. 

“I make enough, baby doll”. 

*****

Lemon’s yellow Birkin is her pride and joy. 

It had been her first big purchase a couple of years ago when she could afford it, and since then her collection has only continued to grow. She has a closet for her bags - or her babies as she calls them - and when Priyanka sees it, she all but loses her mind. Her jaw drops in the same way that Lemon’s had when she’d first seen Priyanka’s new penthouse, but it doesn’t snap back together when Lemon begins explaining the layout to her. If anything, Priyanka looks more confused than ever, and Lemon has to try her hardest not to giggle because of it. 

“Pri-”. Lem snorts, layers of laughter being revealed. 

They’re sitting on Lemon’s couch, Hibbi curled up next to them. 

“-You can’t say  _ shit _ , how much did you fuckin’ blow on your apartment?”. She asks. 

Priyanka prods a finger into Lemon’s ribs, then crawls them up towards her shoulder. 

“It’s where I live, of  _ course _ I spent money on it, the place is my baby!”. Priyanka dramatises. 

She curls her fingers around Lemon’s shoulder, splays them out across her collarbones. Lemon’s silk sleep shirt has slipped away ever so slightly, and Priyanka takes full advantage of it. Her short, manicured nails trace the freckles that lay on Lemon in clusters, and then wind into the flowing strands of her hair. She’d tinted the usually blonde tresses a faint hue of rose gold less than a week ago and Priyanka has made no secret about how much she likes it. Between whispers of  _ it looks so good on you _ , to excited squeals of  _ look at my angel! _ Lemon is tempted to keep it. 

“Well-”. Lemon huffs, a smile tugging at her lips. 

“-My bags are my babies! That’s why they have their own bedroom!”. 

Instead of retaliating, Priyanka just kisses her. 

Once she gets the last word. 

“Unbelievable”. 

*****

They order food from a Thai place, and eat in their same spots on the couch. 

Lemon makes a brief joke that she’s made at least a hundred times before about  _ why don’t you just get a personal chef _ , but Priyanka shakes her head. She exaggerates the slurp of her noodles until Lemon swats her feebly, and is honest with her response. A personal chef seems like such a waste when she knows she wouldn’t enjoy it anyway, unless they could produce the cheap dollar pepperoni slice that she always buys whenever she’s near  _ 2 Bros Pizza _ .

Maybe it comes across as faux-humble, but Lemon doesn’t seem to care. 

She smiles at Priyanka just as she always does, and rests her head on Priyanka’s lap once they’ve polished off their food. Hibbi is curled up next to them, gentle snores vibrating against Priyanka’s knee. Lemon stares at him adoringly and though he’s not Priyanka’s favourite thing that Lemon has brought to her life, she can’t deny the character that he has. He wakes up when Lemon shuffles slightly, and Priyanka thinks that he’s going to sleep through the disturbance until he gurgles, and then nips at Priyanka’s bunched up plaid shirt. 

“Wow-”. Priyanka teases.

“-What a little rat”. She grunts. 

_ Hibbi is giving me full fucking evils _ . 

“Pri!”. Lemon gasps. 

_ Oh shit.  _

“Ok! A cute rat!”. 

She’s quick to back track a little, but smirks so that Lemon knows that she’s joking - mostly. Hibbi isn’t entirely awful, but he is definitely a pain in the ass. The first time that Priyanka had tried to fuck Lemon in Lemon’s bed, Hibbi had disturbed them with a bark, and Priyanka has never quite forgiven him for it. Lemon pouts, exaggerated yet loving, and sits up so that she’s able to pull Hibi into her lap. He sits there for a while, but when Lemon adjusts to sit more comfortably, he scuttles off to sit on the rug near the coffee table instead. 

Priyanka laughs, but tries not to be smug about it. 

“I told you he was evil”. 

*****

Before they drift off to sleep, Priyanka turns to Lemon. 

They’re huddled in darkness, the smell of sex lingering in the air. Priyanka’s hair is tousled and Lemon has been trying - and failing - to work her fingers soothingly through the knots in it for the best part of an hour. Faint protests leave Priyanka’s lips whenever she snags one a bit too hard, but she relaxes back into Lemon’s touch everytime. Lemon calls her  _ whipped _ and is teasing in how she does it, but Priyanka changes the mood when she unhooks her arm from Lemon’s waist, creating distance between them. 

“I’m flying back to Toronto this weekend”. Priyanka tells her. 

And the distance that Priyanka has put between them - Lemon doesn’t want it. 

So shuffles back towards her, tangles their legs like ivy. Priyanka poisons her way to Lemon’s heart, through her blood, and Lemon gladly lets her. Because if this is how it feels to be eaten alive from the inside out, then Lemon wants to be devoured. Having Priyanka’s eyes on her feels good, and having her undivided attention feels even better. Lemon smiles at her in the dark of the room, cups Priyanka’s cheeks with warm hands. She trails them down Priyanka’s arms until their fingers are able to intertwine, and then squeezes once. 

Then, she smiles. 

“To see the infamous Momyanka?”. Lemon asks, grin wide and settling. 

Lemon watches Priyanka relax, one muscle at a time. It’s the moments like this that still shake her, when the usually powerful Priyanka is vulnerable with her. She gets quieter in these times, but Lemon is slowly learning that she’s not  _ losing _ her power, she’s just passing it over. Lemon holds it delicately in the palms of her hands, and then gives it back to her when Priyanka perks up. She smiles softly, in a way that’s indicative of the stupid fucking idiot that she is, and then nods her head slowly. 

“The one and only doll and diva!”. Priyanka laughs. 

Lemon can do nothing apart from giggle with her, sleep seeping it’s way into her bones. The day has been a slow one for the most part - she’d only popped into the office quickly that morning - but the overarching calm has her feeling at ease. Priyanka is still looking at her, almost tentatively, and Lemon has an inkling as to why. She’s been dropping hints for a while, scattering them around like confetti on the floor. Priyanka wants Lemon to meet her mom and the thought isn’t as daunting as Lemon once thought it would be. 

“Will you come with me?”. 

She takes it as a good sign that the world  _ yes _ slips from her mouth without even thinking about it. 

*****

Lemon goes with her, and falls just a tiny bit in love with Priyanka’s family. 

As well as Priyanka herself. 

They arrive just after noon on Saturday, and Priaynka’s mom welcomes them with open arms, a burning log furnace, and a table full of food. She’s prepared Priyanka’s favourite dhal, and a milder potato dish for Lemon just in case, but Lemon eats whatever she’s given because it’s kind, she thinks. There’s not a lot that she wouldn’t do to see Priyanka’s eyes light up, and her mom’s too, so getting to eat delicious food couldn’t be further from an inconvenience. With each bite that she takes her stomach is filled with a little more adoration, and Lemon can’t get enough. 

Once they’ve eaten, they spend the whole afternoon together. 

Priyanka’s brothers drive in from neighbouring towns, and watching how they - they being Priyanka and her family - interaract, makes tears gather in the corners of Lemon’s eyes. They’re a unit that’s perfectly dysfunctional, and they share as many inside jokes as they do ridiculous decorative ornaments. There’s a teal vase in the living room that’s nearly identical to the one that Priyanka keeps on the coffee table in her penthouse, and  _ ah _ , Lemon thinks; Priyanka makes sense. 

She laughs in the same way that her mom does, and makes digs that rival those of her eldest brother. They’re cutting, stupid, but are never said with the intention of hurting anyone. They make Lemon’s integration seamless, as if she’s just another seat at the table that in many ways, has always been there. Priyanka keeps her hand settled on Lemon’s knee whether they’re in the kitchen or in the living room, and when Lemon catches Priyanka’s mom staring at it, a blush spreads across her cheeks. 

“Lemon honey, make sure Priyanka  _ behaves _ if you’re both staying in the same room tonight”. Her mom warns. 

Lemon nods her head, but doesn’t make a promise. 

Because she knows when Priyanka squeezes her thigh that she wouldn’t be able to keep it. 

“I’ll try my best”. She grins. 

By  _ best _ , she means trying not to let Priyanka fuck her in her childhood home, but that goes out the window as soon as the door to the guest room closes behind them and Priyanka kisses her.

It’s heavy with all of the events of the day, every emotion that Lemon has felt since Priyanka had first asked her to join her on her weekend trip. She’s overcome with the essence of sheer care that she’s felt since that morning, and it keeps growing growing growing as Priyanka licks into her mouth. Her teeth nibble at Lemon’s bottom lip as she pulls away to draw in a breath, but Lemon chases after her with a whimper. She’s not ashamed to say that she wants Priyanka, or even that she needs her. Everything is so much, but she  _ still _ can’t get enough. 

“Baby doll-”. Priyanka mumbles. 

“-They all love your stupid ass”. 

Her words have Lemon keening, pulling Priyanka back down for another kiss. It’s deeper this time, and they peel off each other’s clothes as their hands wander. A pile of pants, shirts and underwear forms at the foot of the bed, and then Priyanka pushes Lemon down onto it with a grin that feels like an advertisement of what’s to come. Lemon knows that look, knows Priyanka, and understands that she definitely isn’t going to behave. She’s mischievous yet loving, and Lemon lets her unhook her sparkling white gold diamond earrings from her lobes. 

She sets them down onto the bedside table, then brushes Lemon’s hair away from her face. 

“Pri…”. Lemon trails off. 

She’s searching for words that she can’t find, ones that probably don’t exist. 

“Hmmm?”. Priyanka checks. 

Her lips are kissing down Lemon’s chest, wrapping around one of her nipples. Lemon arches her back into it with Priyanka’s palm pressing on her sternum, and mewls at how hot and wet her mouth is. She wants it to keep moving down, further along her stomach, and then to her thighs before she settles between them. She tries to convey as much to Priyanka through her whines and faint moans, but by the look on her face Priyanka has other ideas. 

“You’re being a teaaaase”. Lemon pouts, and it comes out louder and more petulant than she intends it to. 

“Shhh-”. Priyanka shakes her head. 

Lemon should have seen it coming. 

“-Be quiet. Can you turn over for me, hm?”. 

Lemon does as she’s asked, without any further qualms. She makes herself comfortable, sprawled out on her stomach, and pushes up on her knees ever so slightly so that her hips are lifted. Priyanka hums in approval, and settles both hands on Lemon’s ass. She squeezes, nails digging in to supple skin, and Lemon’s mouth opens against the soft cotton of the pillowcase beneath her head. Her hands grapple at the sheets too, because she knows that if she doesn’t hold something, anything, then she’ll lose all grip on her surroundings. 

On staying focused, quiet. 

On being good, for Priyanka. 

And on the touches that are trailing, over her thighs and under her hips. 

“My girl”. Priyanka mumbles against the shell of Lemon’s ear. 

_ Her girl _ , Lemon whines, her god damn girl. It makes her chest swell, but also has her dripping onto Priyanka’s fingers that are stroking against her inner thighs, migrating to her pussy. Lemon bucks down against them, and bites at her lips to barricade in all of her whimpers. There are the odd few that escape, break free from their confines, but for the most part she’s as good as Priyanka tells her to be. 

When Priyanka first slips two fingers inside of her with little friction, Lemon’s body tenses. The muscles of her back clench, and Priyanka kisses across them to make them loosen up. It works quickly, and Lemon can’t help the way that she unwinds her hands from the bedsheets, and grips at the sturdy metal bed frame instead. The cream painted steel is cold in her sweaty, overheated palms, whereas Priyanka’s touch is hot, scorching. She feels as if she’s frozen while also being on fire, and there’s something in the stark contrast that has Lemon becoming even wetter, clenching around Priyanka’s fingers. 

“Oh, you like that huh?”. Priyanka smirks, tongue dipping into the dimples of Lemon’s lower back. 

“Yessss”. Lemon hisses. 

Her eyes fall closed as Priyanka adds a third finger, thumb creating the exact pressure she needs against her clit. She’s close - so close - and it’s Priyanka’s teeth that dig into the swell of her ass that ultimately have her coming. Hard. It takes all of her concentration not to moan like she wants to, not to thrash so much she makes the bed frame creak suspiciously. Priyanka chuckles lowly at her efforts, and Lemon knows that she’s feeling beyond smug for tipping her over the edge with the touch of pain that she knows she likes, confident fingers curling against her g-spot. 

“Holy shit-”. Priyanka grins once Lemon has caught her breath. 

“-Who knew you could be quiet?”. 

And Lemon has to pretend she doesn’t hear her, or else she’d shove her off of the bed. 


	3. 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once every couple of weeks, Lemon has a wine night with her girlies. 
> 
> Most of the time Jan hosts it - she’s got the biggest living space, it makes sense to do so - but when she doesn’t, Rosé does. 
> 
> Rosé - investor, home financier.
> 
> She lives with her girlfriend Mik, a hairdresser who owns her own high end salon across the river in Brooklyn. They’d first first met when Rosé had sought out somebody who could deal with her naturally curly hair, and she’d left the salon after her first appointment with Mik’s number in her phone and a print of purple lipstick on her cheek. Lemon thinks that they’re both equally as batshit as each other, with their home an eclectic miss match of styles, shades of pink and undeniably clashing patterns. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not me posting ch3 two days after ch2 ghdfjskla
> 
> Anyway, I have a project in the works that I'm REALLY excited about so this one is happening quicker than anticipated!! I hope y'all enjooooy <3

Once every couple of weeks, Lemon has a wine night with her girlies. 

Most of the time Jan hosts it - she’s got the biggest living space, it makes sense to do so - but when she doesn’t, Rosé does. 

Rosé - investor, home financier.

She lives with her girlfriend Mik, a hairdresser who owns her own high end salon across the river in Brooklyn. They’d first first met when Rosé had sought out somebody who could deal with her naturally curly hair, and she’d left the salon after her first appointment with Mik’s number in her phone and a print of purple lipstick on her cheek. Lemon thinks that they’re both equally as batshit as each other, with their home an eclectic miss match of styles, shades of pink and undeniably clashing patterns. 

On one weekend when Priyanka and Jackie are out of town, they gather in the garish living room. 

They sip champagne from glasses sculpted into the shapes of hearts, and Lemon has to laugh at the way Jan, even after all these years, is still perplexed by Rosé and Mik’s  _ unique _ interior design choices. She’s forever joking about giving them a home makeover, but Rosé is mockingly blunt whenever she responds. _ If you don’t like it then stop drinking my fridge dry _ , she dramatises, and  _ fuck _ \- Lemon adores her friends beyond belief. They maintain the same level of stupidity that she always likes to surround herself with, and sometimes take it just that bit further. 

“Hey gorg-”. Mik drawls. 

She’s sitting on the floor next to Rosé, her back resting against the couch. Her legs are outstretched in front of her under the coffee table, and she’s grinning tipsily up towards Lemon. 

“-If you were one of the real housewives, what would your tagline be?”. 

_ See _ , Lemon snorts, so fucking stupid. 

“Oh! I know what mine would be-”. Lagoona interjects. 

She waits for the room's attention to focus on her, and then tosses her hair behind her shoulder. 

“-Take a dip into the Lagoona, you might just like what you find”. 

Her face is smug, and Lemon doesn’t stop herself from giggling along with her. Rosé groans in frustration where Mik hollers and cheers, and Izzy and Jan look too busy trying to come up with their own renditions. Lemon can see the gears turning behind their wine dazed eyes, and decides to put them out of their misery by blessing them with her own genius first. Like Lagoona, she flips her hair over her shoulder, and then pulls her legs to her chest. She’s comfortable on the couch, comfortable with her company, and it’s why she lets herself be a dumb bitch about it. 

“My name might be Lemon but I’m more sweet than sour”.

They all laugh, chests vibrating, and then it becomes a sort of quick-fire round. 

“At work I make houses more valuable, but  _ I’m _ the priceless one”. Jan beams. 

“They say blondes have more fun and like, oh my god they’re so right”. Is Izzy’s choice. 

And even Rosé joins in. 

“Why drink red when Rosé tastes even better?”. She smirks.

They heave out chuckles until they’re breathless, arms flailing and drinks very nearly spilling. Glasses are topped up throughout the night, and Lemon becomes one with the couch cushions that feel like cotton candy clouds under her thighs. She presses her fingertips into them just to check that they aren’t, and when she concludes that they’re real she looks up to Jan with a wonky smile. Jan leans into her from her own position on the couch, and they murmur about the heated looks that Lagoona and Izzy are sharing while Rosé and Mik pass delicate whispers back and forth. 

The conversation turns then - eventually - to Lemon and Priyanka. 

To the possibility of Lemon moving  _ in _ with Priyanka. 

“Dolls-”. Lemon sighs. 

“What d’ya think?”. 

Because the opinions of her girlies are important, significant. Lemon trusts them more than she trusts most, and to talk out an idea that she’s been pondering for months is needed, she thinks. Even while tipsy, she knows that they can provide advice that she wouldn’t be able to give herself, even in her best mirror pep talks. Each of them harbours a different perspective; Jan has been living with Jackie for as long as Lemon’s able to remember, Rosé and Mik are newer but still unquestionably committed, and Izzy and Lagoona are - 

\- Well, they’re something. 

“Don’t ask me-”. Izzy snorts. 

“-I can barely stand sharing an apartment with myself, let alone anyone else”. 

Lagoona jokes that Izzy and her dog Mollie live a very happy life together, and Izzy echoes her statement with a raise of her glass. She clinks it against the one that Lagoona’s cradling clumsily, before grimacing apologetically in Lemon’s direction.  _ Not what I wanted to god damn hear _ , Lemon thinks. Jan seems to be on the same page because she turns to her, more serious than Lemon has seen her all night, and cocks her head inquisitively to the side.

“Doll-”. Jan starts. 

“-Y’all spend all your free time together anyway. Would anything even change?”. 

_ No it wouldn’t _ , Lemon muses, and that’s what lowkey terrifies her. Moving in with Priyanka would be a confirmation of what she already knows, what she’s known since the beginning. They’re committed to the long haul, to the love that they clearly share, and it feels like a milestone somehow even if very little would actually change. The only difference that Lemon’s able to think of is that they’d share one closet space, and the fact that that doesn't make Lemon want to puke pretty much solidifies her decision. 

“Jan’s right-”. Rosé echoes. 

_ Rosé admitting that someone else is right? Wild.  _

“-You’ve gotta just fuckin’ go for it, yknow? Feel things out, test the waters, but if you know then… you know”. 

*****

Lemon wakes up the next morning with a headache, and it’s the least surprising turn of events to ever turn. 

Hangovers once she’d hit thirty had become more like full day events than queasy mornings, and the soreness in her head follows her right through to the afternoon. She counts herself lucky that she doesn’t have much to do apart from moseying around the office, tying up loose ends, and it’s why she opts for a more casual outfit than she usually would. A tight skirt is swapped for comfy white slacks, and a yellow turtleneck takes the place of the button ups that make up a lot of her wardrobe. 

Lemon pairs the outfit with yellow kitten heels - because why would she not - and enjoys a breakfast of a cinnamon latte and a croissant that Izzy drops onto her desk from the bakery down the street. Lemon thanks her with a half smile, then settles into the day.  _ Take shit as it comes _ , she tells herself, that’s all she’s able to do. She’s just grateful that she doesn’t have to face any major colleagues today, because she doesn’t think her hangover or her patience could stomach it. In all honesty, the thought of corporate discussions make her want to puke on a good day so, she’d rather not. 

She sits pretty, in the swivel chair behind her desk. If she moves too quickly then she feels nauseous all over again, but if she drifts slowly then it’s as if she’s back on Rosé’s couch, thinking about the topic that’s been looming over her for days. That topic being - moving in with Priyanka. They’ve discussed it before, seriously and more jovially, but this time it feels like an inevitable that they can’t avoid, no matter how much Lemon wants to. If she had it her way then she’d drop her bag collection off at Priyanka’s apartment without saying a word - because she knows that Priyanka wouldn’t object - but she knows that’s not how it works. 

“Izz-”. Lemon sighs. 

“-Why is it so difficult”. She whines. 

And Izzy, much like the night before, doesn’t have an answer. 

_ What did I fucking expect.  _

“Sweet sweet Lemon-”. Izzy circles her desk. 

“-As much as I’d loooove to give you advice, I’m mid way through my slut phase. I couldn’t  _ possibly _ comment”. 

Lemon almost responds with _ you’ve been in your slut phase for ten years _ , but decides to keep that one to herself. 

It must be the hangover talking. 

*****

Priyanka pops to Lemon’s office after she gets done with one of her sales. 

Nine million -  _ I am the absolute one, _ Priyanka muses. 

She takes the elevator all the way up to the eleventh floor, and strides into Lemon’s private office without knocking. Lemon is there, feet propped up on her desk as she scrolls through her computer. Priyanka grins at her as Lemon registers her presence, and then makes herself comfortable in the chair on the opposite side of her desk. Lemon’s hair is pulled back into a sleek low bun - business mode Lemon always does  _ things _ to Priyanka - and she has dainty gold drop earrings hanging from her ears. 

“Well you look… cute”. Priyanka smirks. 

“Yeah?-”. Lemon tilts her head. 

“-You like my hangover chic? Do my dark circles turn you on?”. She grins. 

“Oooh damn, don’t get me started”. 

Priyanka is joking - maybe, probably - but Lemon’s eyes are glowing with something that resembles the want that Priyanka is alluding to. She drops her legs from the desk, and then pushes herself up from her desk chair. Slowly and deliberately, she walks towards Priyanka, heels clacking against the wooden floor. Priyanka eyes her every step of the way, because the way that Lemon’s trousers hug her thighs, her ass, is absolutely criminal. Her hips sway as she gets closer, and  _ oh, _ Priyanka realsies, she’s not wearing a bra either. 

“Distract me”. Lemon murmurs, lowering herself to straddle Priyanka in her chair. 

And  _ that _ is something that Priyanka can do. 

She places her hands firstly on Lemon’s waist, then her hips and her ass. She squeezes as she pleases, digs her nails into the soft fabric and Lemon’s skin. Lemon is already kissing her, winding her fingers into the tresses of Priyanka’s hair, and Priyanka is just glad that Lemon’s office walls aren’t glass like the ones in her own office are. She pulls Lemon closer, tongue gliding across her bottom lip, and tastes the cinnamon from the latte that Priyanka had vaguely registered sitting on her desk. 

_ Does she want me to fuck her? Here? _

Lemon takes hold of Priyanka’s hand, and guides it to the waistband of her pants. 

_ She wants me to fuck her. Here. Nice.  _

Priyanka pulls back ever so slightly, her eyes trying to drink in all that Lemon is offering her. Her chest is heaving, nipples hard under the soft cashmere of her sweater, and Priyanka swallows the sight of her kiss swollen lips in hearty gulps. Lemon grins as Priyanka unbuttons her pants, but then her face relaxes into a soft simper when Priyanka first presses her fingers to Lemon’s pussy over her panties. She’s warm to the touch, already wet, and  _ oh my god _ Priyanka loves every bit of her. 

“Stand up, turn around”. Priyanka smiles. 

Lemon lets out a shuddering breath, but does as she’s told without question. She faces away from Priyanka, and drops her upper body to the desk. Her elbows prop her up while her spine dips, and Priyanka makes quick work of shuffling her slacks down her legs. 

For now, she leaves her panties on. 

“Thought about this so much”. Lemon whimpers, pushing herself back against Priyanka’s palm. 

The wet spot on her panties is growing, and Priyanka pushes them eagerly to the side and out of her way. Screw taking them off, she decides, because Lemon needs her and she needs Lemon just as much. Lemon is glistening, soaked, and Priyanka catches a drop of wetness with her thumb. She strokes it up through Lemon’s folds, before Lemon stops looking at her from over her shoulder to drop her head forward. It rests on her arms, hand splayed out across a notepad full of addresses. Priyanka hums as Lemon clenches around nothing, and then she pulls away. 

“Thinking about what?-”. Priyanka smirks. 

“-Getting fucked in your office?”. 

_ Of course she’s into this. _

“Yesssss-”. Lemon hisses. 

“-Need it so bad”. She hiccups. 

Priyanka pulls herself closer by her hands on Lemon’s hips, once she’s tucked her hair behind her ears. Lemon lifts her head to watch her once more, legs spreading as much as the pants around her ankles will allow. She’s wet down her thighs, little mewls practically begging for Priyanka’s touch, but Priyanka wants to hear more from her. She presses two fingers to Lemon’s entrance, barely pushing inside of her. It’s just enough to make Lemon aware of what’s going to happen, but not enough to have her properly feeling it. 

“Ask nicely”. Priyanka peppers kisses across the swell of her ass, down her inner thighs. 

“Fuck-”. Lemon winces, chasing Priyanka’s fingers. 

“-Please, oh my god, please fuck me, I need you”. She babbles. 

_ Good enough.  _

Priyanka pushes into her, arm tightening in a hook around her waist. Lemon’s hips thrust back against Priyanka's hand and moans pour from her lungs. Priyanka curls her fingers even as the fleeting thought of telling Lemon to be quiet crosses her mind. People might hear her, or they might not, but either way Lemon is  _ loud _ . Priyanka chuckles against her thigh, and licks a stripe through the wetness that’s streaked down them. Lemon whimpers as soon as she does it, and she begins to tremble with each of Priyanka’s touches. 

“Be quiet, baby doll. You don’t want anyone to hear”. Priyanka laughs. 

But Lemon becomes even louder. 

_ Oh _ . 

“Or do you?”. 

“Priiiii-”. Lemon whines. 

“-Just fuck me”. She pleads. 

If she wasn’t just as stupidly horny as Lemon, Priyanka thinks that she would keep teasing her, and then tease her some more. Luck would have it however that Priyanka can feel herself growing wetter everytime she shifts in her seat, and she knows that Lemon is going to give as good as she gets. It’s why Priyanka fucks her harder, deeper, until Lemon is calling out her name. She comes with a cry, nails digging into the wood of the desk.  _ Ouch, _ Priyanka thinks, but Lemon seems too focused on steadying her breathing, standing to pull her pants back up. 

Once Lemon has buttoned them, she turns to Priyanka with a soft smile. 

“Let’s go out for dinner tonight”. She says, and Priyanka responds with a gentle frown. 

“What’s the occasion?”. 

Lemon just shrugs, gives a grin that Priyanka is unable to read before reaching for the belt securing Priyanka’s pants. 

_ My turn.  _

“Life milestones, Peronka!”. 

*****

They visit a restaurant that they frequent downtown, and Priyanka wears her favourite burgundy dress. 

It cuts off just above the knee, sits in a bardot neckline. Lemon’s white bodycon dress is the perfect accompaniment for it, and Priyanka thinks that they look like two of the finest bottles of wine that the restaurant has to offer. They sit in a small booth at the back of the room - they’re regulars, Priyanka had requested it specifically - and order their favourite dishes. The waiters top up their glasses of champagne as if it’s water, and within the hour Priyanka is tipsy enough to melt into the atmosphere. 

Beneath the table, Lemon entangles their ankles. 

She strokes the heel of one of her shoes against Priyanka’s calf, and it both heats Priyanka up and relaxes her at the same time. Lemon’s gold jewellery glints in the amber lighting around them, like little stars that Priyanka can’t help but draw constellations between. The conversation flows just like their drinks and at this point Priyanka shouldn’t even be surprised. She loves Lemon and Lemon loves her; they coexist with a stupid kind of ease and Priyanka fucking revels in it on a daily basis. 

When they’ve both finished eating, Lemon blinks up at her from under thick lashes. 

“I thought about what you said”. She smiles, swirling what’s left of her wine around the bottom of her glass. 

Priyanka knows that this could go either way - serious or sexual - and so she opts for the lighter of the two first. 

“About the vibrator that’s meant to-”. 

“Pri! Not that!-”. Lemon laughs. 

Her cheeks are flushing under her makeup, eyes sparkling like the chandeliers above them. 

“-About what you said, y’know… moving in together?”. 

Her words are quiet, timid, but they’re not uncertain. She has a look of hope on her face that Priyanka can only pray that she’s digesting correctly, and is still pressing the point of her heel to Priyanka’s leg. It’s grounding in one way and has her floating in another, but Priyanka still outstretches her leg further. It makes her feel closer to Lemon, whose thoughts she can’t read no matter how much she tries to. Moving in together is something they’ve spoken about a handful of times before but now, here under the tangerine glow, it feels a bit more real. 

“Uh, yeah-”. Priyanka nods. 

“-Are you thinking it’s… a good idea?”. She grins. 

Because sure, Priyanka thinks it’s a good idea, but does Lemon? Priyanka can imagine them bickering over their morning coffee, but can also picture them kissing afterwards. She wants a shared closet that will be overtaken by Lemon’s extensive bag collection, a space in the living area for Hibbi’s little fluffy bed. Priyanka also wants to wake up to Lemon on hectic mornings as well as lazy ones, because it beats being on opposite ends of the city when they could be within the same four walls. 

“I mean, I’m down”. Lemon nods. 

And then two weeks later, when Lemon does move in, Priyanka thinks that it’s a fucking fantastic idea.


	4. 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priyanka is screwed. 
> 
> Royally, entirely, utterly and completely. 
> 
> Because she’s never thought that marriage would be her type of thing before, but now she thinks it might have to be. 
> 
> With Lemon specifically, obviously. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing to say here apart from the quick writing is still happening hfjdksla 
> 
> Enjoy babies!!!

Before Priyanka meets Jackie at their favourite bar, she spends the afternoon showing an affluent couple around an upstate home. 

It has nine bedrooms -  _ nine _ , for god's sake - and five bathrooms. Priyanka doesn’t understand the need for the amount of either of them, but she guesses they’re a staple for rich white couples in their mid to late thirties. The pair that she shows around are nice enough, though part of her thinks it’s just basic human decency. They say thank you whenever she holds doors open for them, praise her knowledge about the area and even laugh along with her admittedly horrific jokes. 

“I don't know if it’s quite big enough for what we had in mind”. The wife -  _ Mrs Perfect _ \- admits, surveying the expansive living 

Priyanka nods her head in understanding, but then nudges the husband with one hand as she holds her clipboard in the other. 

“It’s not about the size, it’s about what you do with it, right?  _ Right? _ ”. She grins. 

_ Ok, maybe not the best audience for my humour, _ Priyanka sighs. 

She continues leading them around the house, showing them the outdoor pool, the hot tub and the garden that’s bigger than most in the neighbourhood. The husband hums his approval at certain aspects, even stretches to complimenting whoever had been in charge of the renovations. Priyanka knows first hand that it had been Jan and her team, and she makes a mental note to text her about it over lunch. When they make their ways back inside, Priyanka leaves them to their own devices once more; because the wife is having none of it.

“Go ahead! I’ll give you some privacy!”. She gestures around them, knowing that the answer is going to be a no. 

She tells Jackie about it later that day with annoyance lacing her voice, but laughs nonetheless at the hilarity of it all. 

_ Stupid fucking rich people, _ she muses. 

“Like, what do you  _ mean _ nine bedrooms isn’t big enough?!”. She huffs.

Jackie shrugs her shoulders, and sips at the martini that the bartender has just placed in front of her. She offers her thanks with a nod and picks the olive out of her glass before sinking her teeth into it, biting it clean in half. Priyanka watches her do it, and it’s nobody's business but her own if she pictures the olive of Mrs Perfect’s head from earlier in the day. What Priyanka would give to tell her - amongst tens of other clients - that they’re nothing but entitled bitches is  _ beyond _ . 

“You know what they’re like-”. Jackie chuckles. 

“-Never worked a day in their lives so they need all of the room to store their egos”. She smirks. 

Priyanka raises her glass at that, and clinks it against Jackie’s in agreement. 

“Never have truer words been spoken”. 

*****

As the night drones on and inhibitions loosen, Priyanka sheds her blazer.  She rolls the sleeves of her white shirt up, and braces her elbow on the bartop. Jackie mirrors her in posture and in her levels of drunkenness, but Priyanka can also tell that with every sip of martini that she takes, she’s swallowing back words that she’s itching to say. Priyanka knows a contemplative Jackie when she sees one, understands when she’s having a moment so to speak. They come few and far between because most of the time Jackie is the epitome of put together, but when they happen they happen. 

And oh  _ boy _ is this one of them. 

“Will you spit it out?”. Priyanka blurts, too on edge to watch Jackie grapple with her thoughts any longer. 

Jackie shifts in her seat, eyes darting between Priyanka and her glass that’s half empty. She picks it up with an iron like grip, and Priyanka is briefly concerned that it’s going to shatter before Jackie sighs, sips, and then surrenders. A smile grows on her lips, teeth glistening with gin. Priyanka braces herself because she doesn’t know what to expect, but then relaxes when Jackie smiles reassuringly. She knows that it can’t be bad news - Jackie wouldn’t take her out for drinks if it was - but the anticipation is far too much. 

“Welllll?”. Priyanka prompts. 

And then Jackie gives in, 

“I’m gonna ask Jan to marry me”. 

Priyanka’s jaw goes slack, before it morphs into a grin. 

“Shut the front door”. 

Jackie barks out a laugh, almost as if she can’t quite believe her words either. She holds her glass to her lips, and Priyanka watches as she goes through the motions. Her uncertain smirk becomes a definitive beam of pride, excitement, and Priyanka finds herself laughing along with her. She’s brimming with happiness at the thought, because Jackie and Jan being married makes sense in this world and the next one. Actually, Priyanka thinks, it makes sense in all of the worlds that she’s able to think of. 

“Look at you-”. Priyanka drawls. 

“-You fuckin’ dyke, Jacqueline”. 

Her words are laced with love, and  _ she _ knows that  _ Jackie _ knows it. 

“It feels right”. Jackie shrugs, draining the rest of her glass. 

And Priyanka, as she pulls Jackie into a brief hug, couldn’t agree more. 

“Cheers to that!”. 

*****

Jan says yes in the January, and then they marry in December. 

It’s a winter wedding, held just outside of the city near Lake Placid. They rent a cohort of cabins, enough to house friends, family and favourites for the weekend. They decorate one of them in soft shades of baby blue, and on first sight Lemon is in awe of how it compliments the oak interior. She knows that it’s Jan’s doing - she wouldn’t miss an opportunity to flex her eye for design - but there are touches of Jackie littered throughout. 

They come in the forms of delicate gold accents, and dainty florals wrapped around wooden pillars and linen covered chairs. Lemon notes that they’ve collectively transformed the space into a spring day graced with a flurry of snow, and when she thinks about it,  _ really _ thinks about it, she doubts she could imagine a better representation of the both of them. It’s truly stunning, something to marvel at, but is somehow also understated in a way that feels indicative of everything she knows about the couple. 

The decor feels as natural as the snow that falls outside, and the guests mingle as easily as the interweaving branches of shivering trees. 

“Isn’t it  _ everything? _ ”. Lemon asks Priyanka the night before the ceremony, both sprawled out across their California king. 

Priyanka had blagged her way into getting Jackie to allocate them one of the most luxury cabins, and my god is Lemon grateful. It feels homely despite its grandeur, cosy even though it’s twice the size of some of the other cabins. Lemon had half thought they’d be shacked up in some renovated garden shed when Jan had first told her about a winter cabin wedding, but it couldn’t be further from reality. There are faux fur rugs laid atop the wooden floors, chic art hung on the walls surrounding them. Lemon thinks that it’s a sight that she could grow to enjoy by the time that they leave; when the snow has stopped falling and rings have been swapped. 

“It’s cute right?”. Priyanka grins. 

Beneath the thick duvet, she tangles her legs with Lemon’s. Her toes are cold, and Lemon squeaks out a giggle when they press against her ankles. Priyanka mumbles a faint  _ sorry _ that Lemon dismisses, but then silence envelopes them. All that they’re able to hear is the soft sound of the wind outside, the occasional chatter of people who walk past their cabin. The atmosphere feels more like airy spring than the depths of winter, and Lemon would be content with basking in it if it wasn’t for the tense smile on Priyanka’s face.

“What’s on that mind of yours, dumbass?”. Lemon softens, though she knows that Priyanka isn’t going to give her a serious answer. 

Not right now, at least. 

“Izzy and Lagoona are probably fucking next door”. 

And while they probably are, it’s not what Lemon wants to talk about. It’s too late for this kind of dykery when they have to be up so early the next morning. There’s hair and then there’s makeup, and Lemon needs at  _ least _ three hours to go through all of them. She knows that Priynka won't need half as long, but she’s still adamant that they both need sleep, and lots of it. It’s why she blows out the candle on the bedside table next to them, and folds herself daintily into Priyanka’s arms until their words are nothing but dreams and their dreams are nothing but eventualities. 

*****

Jan and Jackie look fucking  _ gorgeous _ . 

They’re the exact picture of opulence that Lemon had pictured, but are humble in everything that they do. They walk each other down the aisle because traditions have never appealed to them, and sit their nearest and dearests in the front few rows. There are Jan’s mom and dad and Jackie’s younger brothers, and then the girlies flocked behind them. Everyone is dressed according to the preferred but not essential dress code - Jan had told them to match the decor _if they_ _wanted_ \- and Lemon can’t deny how good they all look. 

Rosé and Mik are sitting together, with Rosé wearing an electric blue suit and Mik wearing a crisp white jumpsuit. To make sure they coordinate, they’ve worn heels to match each other's outfits, and have both worn their hair in sleek high-ponies. Rosé’s is curly whereas Mik’s is straight, but if they aren’t  _ the _ damn power couple in this place, Lemon thinks, with the exception of Jan and Jackie of course. They smile at each other throughout the ceremony, and it’s as sickeningly sweet as everything else going on around them. 

Similarly, Izzy and Lagoona are also sitting together. Lemon doesn’t know their situation, not explicitly, but she does know that they’re probably made for each other. They’ve been on, off, in, out, all the way around for years, and it’s only a matter of time before they decide to finally date. Their hands remain connected from the time that Jan and Jackie enter the room to the moment that they first kiss as wives, and they only break apart to applaud with teary eyes. 

_ The levels of lesbianism have reached new heights, _ Lemon snorts. 

“Oh my god Priiii, don’t they look gorg?”. She asks, motioning towards Jan and Jackie. 

Jan has opted for a dress, one that she and Lemon has chosen together after numerous fittings. It’s tight around the bodice and flares out from the knee, creating the fishtail silhouette of dreams. There are lace details and silk underlays, and a simple train that follows her. Jackie’s tailored jumpsuit is also accentuated with a cape style moment, and Lemon knows that it’s worth far more than the simple affirmative hum that Priyanka gives. It’s why Lemon turns to her as the room cheers, her brows creasing into a frown. 

Because Priyanka is - she’s oddly quiet. 

She has been since they’d arrived at the cabins, even if she’s kept up appearances. She’s still kept a hand on Lemon’s thigh throughout the ceremony, just brushing the edge of her aqua dress. It compliments Priyanka’s choice of a teal gown and saree, as does her gold jewellery that she’s accessorised with. They look good, beyond good -  _ duh _ \- but Lemon would be lying if she said she wasn’t concerned about Priyanka’s lack of Priyanka-ness. 

_ Is it the wedding?  _

_ Is it freaking her out?  _

_ Is it freaking her out to be at a wedding with me?  _

_ Fuck, maybe it is.  _

*****

Priyanka is screwed. 

Royally, entirely, utterly and completely. 

Because she’s never thought that marriage would be her type of thing before, but now she thinks it might have to be. 

With Lemon specifically, obviously. 

It first crosses her mind when they arrive at the cabins, and she doesn’t stop thinking about it for the remainder of the weekend. With eager eyes she watches the events unfold, bears witness to so many acts of love and care that it shakes her. It comes in so many different forms amongst so many different couples, and though Priyanka has known she loves Lemon for many years, she feels bowled over by it when the wedding she’s attending is that of two of her closest friends. 

Somehow, it makes things feel more real, more personal. Closer to home, if you will. Of course there are Jan and Jackie, but there’s also Mik and Rosé. They’ve been together for a little less time than herself and Lemon, but Priyanka has never questioned whether or not they’re  _ it _ for each other. She’d known it from the moment Rosé had first introduced Mik to the circle of girlies, and she wonders if the same had been thought when Lemon had become a quick constant within her own life. 

_ It must have, surely, _ she thinks. She recalls countless conversations with Jackie where Jackie had praised her for how well Lemon had suited her, and how much everyone liked Lemon and her zest for life. Priyanka also thinks back on how easy it was when they’d all hung out for the first time, and how much momyanka had adored her too. Her mom has been calling Lemon her second daughter since the very beginning and that has to be worth something in Priyanka’s books. 

Even Izzy and Lagoona have an effect on her in some way. They’ve been kind of a thing for years, but they dance around each other in a tango of avoidance before falling into each other's beds at the end of it. Priyanka eagerly awaits the day where they stop being full useless dykes, but until then she’s content to take joy from how they hold hands throughout the day, and smile at one another as if they are the ones dressed in white. 

_ So many emotions in one day? Gross.  _

“Hey, Pri-”. Lemon’s voice is delicate, hushed against the shell of her ear. 

The night is almost over, the reception dwindling to a serene display of affection. 

“-Dance with me?”.

Priyanka lets herself be whisked away, to the middle of the floor where Jan and Jackie are still swaying together. Mik and Rosé are also moving as one, as are the chaotic Izzy and Lagoona. The whole room looks like a calm sea, rippling waves of cerulean that lap at the shores of Priyanka’s soul, her heart that hasn’t stopped trying to jump out of her chest. Lemon wraps her arms loosely around Priyanka’s neck, and Priyanka tries to tell herself to  _ just fucking breathe.  _

Lemon doesn't make it easy for her. She presses herself close, so that Priyanka is able to feel her words more than she’s able to hear them. There are mumbled sweet nothings, tender observations, but they fall on deaf ears as Priyanka looks around once again.  _ I’m going to marry her, _ Priyanka tells herself. She plants her lips in a seal of commitment on Lemon’s forehead, and then sighs happily as she peers over Lemon’s shoulder to Jan, Jackie, and the faint glints of the new rings on their fingers. 

Because in the silhouettes of Jan and Jackie, Priyanka sees the future that she wants with Lemon. 


	5. 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priyanka spends the month after the wedding mulling things over, and then she consults Jan. 
> 
> Jan is probably more on Lemon’s wavelength than Jackie is, so it makes the most logical sense in the end. Priyanka sends Jan a text explaining her dilemma on a Friday afternoon, and by that night they’ve agreed to meet on Saturday. She gives Lemon the excuse of meeting Jackie to discuss the potential profits on a pair of penthouses because she knows that it won’t be questioned, and leaves their home wearing one of her more casual suits and an anxious smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this ch brought some developments huh??
> 
> Thank you so much to anyone that's read this!!!! I've had a lot of fun writing it, and there'll be more soon in the forms of new ships! new universes! new girlies!

Priyanka spends the month after the wedding mulling things over, and then she consults Jan. 

Jan is probably more on Lemon’s wavelength than Jackie is, so it makes the most logical sense in the end. Priyanka sends Jan a text explaining her dilemma on a Friday afternoon, and by that night they’ve agreed to meet on Saturday. She gives Lemon the excuse of meeting Jackie to discuss the potential profits on a pair of penthouses because she knows that it won’t be questioned, and leaves their home wearing one of her more casual suits and an anxious smile. 

She gets a ride from her usual driver. It’s less than ten minutes across the city but she’s not walking that far in her heels, thank you very much. They’re already pinching at her ankles, and though she knows she should be used to the constant wear of them by this point, she really isn’t. If Priyanka had it her way then she’d be wearing a comfy boot to every function, but she knows she can’t exactly rock up to a fancy as fuck bar in anything that doesn’t scream professional woman, put together pretentious princess. 

With a wave and a grin, along with a tip, Priyanka slams the car door behind her. She pauses on the sidewalk as she looks up to the building that houses her favourite bar, and the irony isn’t lost on her. It’s the same bar where Jackie had first told her she was planning on proposing to Jan, so having the positions flipped like this is  _ weird _ . Entering the lobby feels like walking into a new beginning - will it be good? Priyanka sure god damn hopes so - but laying eyes on Jan feels like a familiar comfort. 

“Hey girl!”. Jan beams. 

She pulls Priyanka into a hug, one that eases her nerves ever so slightly. It’s warm, and thaws Priyanka’s bones in the early February chill. Jan pulls away, compliments Priyanka’s outfit, and then Priyanka does the same in return. She’s not lying - Jan  _ does _ look good - she’s wearing a soft lilac midi dress with a white jacket, and then white ankle boots to match. Priyanka holds back the obvious question of  _ aren’t you cold? _ In lieu of hurrying the both of them into the elevator, pressing the button up to the bar with a tentative grin. 

Along the way, they make casual chatter. Priyanka is grateful for the friendship that they have, where nothing feels forced or fabricated. Jan tells her about her day at work, about the one insistent client who really really wants a luminous orange bathroom. It’s a vision that makes Priyanka laugh and Jan cringe, but hey - if it brings in the coin then why not. Jan seems to share the same mentality, and they chuckle about it while they order drinks and tapas. 

Jan is a fruity cocktail kind of gal, but Priyanka just wants whatever is going to get her drunk the quickest. 

“Damn gorg-”. Jan snorts. 

“-You lookin’ to remember tonight or not?”. 

_ Caught red handed.  _

“Dutch courage”. Priyanka counters, shooting back her tumbler of whiskey. 

It burns at her throat, settles in her stomach, but Priyanka is a fucking powerful woman, and she isn’t about to let a bit of alcohol make her sweat. She hasn’t been the drinker of the family for years for nothing - it’s quite the achievement if she does say so herself - and it’s why she orders another two glasses. One for now, and the other for in five minutes, or five seconds. It truly depends on how Jan takes to their conversation. 

“I’m gonna need you to get courageous quickly cause you’ve got me on  _ edge _ , doll”. Jan laughs. 

And though it doesn’t happen right away, Priyanka eventually gets her words out. 

“I… fuck, ok. I.. am gonna ask Lem to marry me?”. Her voice grows in pitch towards the end of her sentence, and she phrases it more like a question than she intends. 

Priyanka knows that it doesn’t really matter because either way Jan is grinning, and then squealing, and then gripping Priyanka’s hands for all that it’s worth. Her nails dig into Priyanka’s palms, and she shakes them with an unmatched glee. It’s instant excitement, something that can only be read as joy, and Priyanka is flooded with a wave of relief, even if it only lasts for a second. There’s still a sense of worry nagging at her, a doubt that she’s never quite experienced before. 

Because she just wants to get it  _ right. _

So she spills her guts, allows Jan to search through them. 

And then together, they clean everything up. 

“Are you kidding?!-”. Jan’s jaw drops. 

“-Of course she’ll say yes!”. Her voice is as high pitched as Priyanka’s had been, and Priyanka dares to hope that it’s a good sign. 

“But what if she doesn’t?-”. Priyanka sighs. 

It’s always a possibility. 

“-What then?”. 

But Jan - just like Priyanka had thought - is having none of it. She takes hold of Priyanka’s hands once more, and squeezes them as she looks Priyanka dead in the eyes. Her gaze doesn’t waver as she speaks, and for a tiny purple femme Jan certainly has a  _ presence. _ It makes Priyanka pay attention to her, has her really listening, and by the end of the night she feels assured in her decision. 

“She wouldn’t fuckin’ dream of it, Pri”. 

*****

Where she’d assisted Jan to give her a kick up the ass, she turns to Jackie for a day of ring shopping. 

Arguably it’s not the best idea - Jan probably, definitely has a taste that’s closer to Lemon’s than Jackie does - but it for sure is fun. They start the day with brunch and mimosas, and spend hours discussing before they actually start looking. It’s partly avoidance and partly just because Priyanka is enjoying Jackie’s company, but she can’t find it in herself to care. Lunch has already been and gone when they finally begin perusing stores, and the afternoon is nearing its end when they find something even  _ close _ to perfect. 

“Jacqueline help meeee-”. Priyanka whines. 

They’ve already been to  _ Cartier, Bulgari, Doyle & Doyle. _

And Priyanka likes a grand total of zero rings. 

“-You know what these sparkle princesses are like, which one should I get?”. She huffs. 

As it turns out, Jackie isn’t of much help. She admits that Jan had picked her own engagement ring from the storefronts of retailers on Fifth Avenue, head set on getting to choose it with Jackie at her side. It was an experience for the both of them, but Priyanka knows Lemon, and knows that she would want Priyanka to take the responsibility of choosing the rock that’ll sit on her finger. It’s why despite the failure, Priyanka and Jackie keep searching searching searching.

And are nothing but disappointed disappointed disappointed.

Until they visit _ Van Cleef & Arpels, _ and Priyanka finds  _ the one. _

It comes when she’s least expecting it - as most clichés go - in the form of gold and diamonds and yellow sapphires. Priyanka is gravitated towards it as if it has a magnetic pull, and it tugs on all of her limbs until she’s stood hovering over it. The vintage band is delicate with a sizable diamond taking pride of place, and the two yellow sapphires sit either side of it as if locking it in an embrace. Priyanka stops worrying when it’s given the Jackie seal of approval too, because two dykes’ opinions are better than one,  _ right?  _

*****

Priyanka is being weird. 

Weirder than usual type of weird. 

And it’s been going on for  _ weeks.  _

She’s been jumpy whenever Lemon has so much as kissed her, and even more tentative about their usual touchy feely nature. One of Priyanka’s usual love languages is being permanently fucking stuck to Lemon in some shape or form, but lately it’s as if she can’t get far enough away from her. Their good morning kisses become chaste, and their good night pecks almost disappear completely. Arguably the most out of character thing for Priyanka however is that  _ sex? _ Basically non-existent. 

And Lemon would be worried, if she didn’t know that Priyanka would never do anything to jeopardise them. She’s far too stupid yet smart, committed and smitten. 

Lemon raises the point to her girlies during one of their wine nights, when the conversation is easy. She’s reclined on the touch, her head in Izzy’s lap as Izzy’s fingers glide gently through her hair. The chandelier above them is bright, and Lemon closes her eyes to the sight of the light refracting against the crystals of it. She lets out a sigh, blissfully tipsy yet annoyingly aware, and then turns her head to a cackling Rosé. 

“Pri’s being weird-”. She blurts. 

The room falls into a stuttered silence. 

“-Has she said anything to y’all?”. 

Over the quiet, Lemon is able to hear the low hum of Mik’s record player in the background. The song is coming to a halt now, but the next one kicks in by the time that Lagoona mutters a low  _ oh shit. _ Lemon eyes her suspiciously, but Izzy groans audibly. Jan avoids her gaze as if it’s going to set her on fire and ok,  _ what the fuck? _ Lemon thinks that she’s either the one losing her mind or everyone around her has already lost it. Because this is next level kind of weird. 

“Maybe the planets are in retrograde”. Izzy shrugs, as if that information is going to help. 

_ Spoiler; it doesn’t.  _

“Priyanka’s world revolves around herself-”. Lemon jokes. 

“-The only Mercury she knows is Freddie”.

Lemon is proud of her joke, but not everyone seems to share the same sentiment. Jan laughs, although only barely, while Izzy grimaces above her. Rosé and Mik share a look that should be telling, whereas Lagoona’s jaw has hit the floor. She’s quick to snap it back shut, but the damage is already done. Lemon is more worried than she was before she’d said anything and the reactions that the girlies have given her have her wishing she’d just kept her mouth closed. 

_ What is everyone’s deal? _

“You’ll see”. Jan grins. 

And Lemon - well, she does see alright. 

*****

On Sunday night they order pizza, and things feel strangely normal. 

Lemon dresses in her comfiest velour loungewear, yellow shorts and a matching sweater that hangs loosely off of her shoulders. Priyanka opts for a pair of old cycling shorts and a t-shirt that she’s had for as long as Lemon has known her. It’s dark green, with a logo for a local tennis team on the back of it. Priyanka has never played tennis, and it’s a fact that makes Lemon laugh as much as it endears her. She’s still hell bent on never getting rid of the damn shirt, and Lemon can’t blame her for it. 

It’s soft against her cheek whenever she rests her head against Priyanka’s chest, and it always smells like a combination of the perfume that Priyanka wears and the vanilla fabric softener that she douses her clothes with.  _ Home, _ Lemon thinks, that’s an accurate description for it. It’s what she’s first greeted with after a long day at work, or before the beginning of one, and she would not be at all mad if it was a recurrence that kept happening.

Happening some more. 

_ Forever? Sure.  _

Lemon looks up towards Priyanka, sometime between polishing off their pizza and their fifth episode of  _ Botched _ . Their eyes meet and smiles bloom, and Lemon is overcome by a stupid amount of happiness. Priyanka is there, with her, because she  _ is _ hers. Lemon loves the bones of her, every little fine line that appears at the corners of her eyes, all of the grey hairs that are growing from her head more regularly now. Priyanka is all she wants, and she realises quickly that it’s what she’s going to get when Priyanka lifts herself from the couch. 

“Where are you goiiiiing?”. Lemon drawls, but Priyanka is back next to her all too soon. 

With a goddamn  _ ring.  _

When Lemon thinks about it, it should have been obvious. 

Because Priyanka asks. 

Lemon says yes. 

And then they laugh, heartily and unbridled. 

“Well thank  _ fuck _ for that!”. Priyanka cackles. 

They fold together, in with the blankets and pillows and empty pizza boxes. Priyanka kisses her and kisses her, mumbles _ I love you I love you I love you _ over and over again until Lemon forgets that other words exist. There are hands in her hair and lips on her neck, and they only pull away when they need to breathe in something other than each other. Priyanka giggles against her cheek while Lemon reaches for her phone as if on instinct, and then snickers as Lemon swipes through to her messages. 

“What are you doing?”. Priyanka pouts, frowning ever so slightly. 

Lemon knows that there’s no malice behind it. 

“Telling everyone, duh”. She dramatises. 

But once again, Priyanka pouts. 

“But this is meant to be the part where we have really hot sex!”. She whines. 

With one hand holding her phone and the other in Priyanka’s lap, Lemon rolls her eyes. She lets Priyanka fiddle with her fingers, allows her to stroke the pads of her thumbs across glossy acrylic nails. Lemon turns her wrist so that her palm faces upwards, then intertwines her touch with Priyanka’s. In the low light her ring glints - god it’s  _ gorgeous _ \- and she’s almost brought to tears by how well Priyanka gets her. Yellow sapphires?  _ Please.  _

“There’ll be plenty of time for that”. Lemon murmurs, as if she isn’t already putting her phone down. 

“C’mere, baby doll”. 

With tender hands and tenderer whispers, Priyanka coaxes Lemon into her lap. It doesn’t take much, if any convincing on Lemon’s part. It feels like it’s been a lifetime and more since Priyanka had last touched her like this, and now that she knows why and how Priyanka has been so jittery, she wants to make up for lost time. It’s a need, to have Priyanka’s hands on her. An essential that she recommits each curve, every dip and dent of Priyanka’s body to mind. 

“I’ve been dying Pri-”. Lemon pants. 

Priyanka’s hands are slipping under the hem of her sweater, climbing the notches of her spine. 

“-It’s been so long”. 

Priyanka chuckles, dark and husky against Lemon’s lips. 

“It’s been like, a week at most”. Priyanka grins, but Lemon thinks that she understands anyway. 

It’s felt like so much longer, because they’ve never spent more than a weekend apart since they’ve known each other. It’s been almost five years at this point, and although Lemon has heard every dig in the book about being too codependent, she also doesn't care. She prides herself on her let-them-say-what-they-want type of attitude, and it’s something that she knows Priyanka admires about her too. Hell, it’s why there’s a ring on her finger, gold in all of its glory. Priyanka catches her staring at it on more than one occasion, and then makes a point of kissing across Lemon’s knuckles. 

“It suits you”. Priyanka tells her, and Lemon has never loved her more. 

They kiss until their lips are swollen, until strings of spit stretch between them when they pull apart. Lemon flicks her tongue to break them but they don’t snap her away from Priyanka. If anything they pull her closer, and Lemon is left whimpering into the crook of Priyanka’s neck as a hand snakes its way up her stomach, under the velour of her sweater. Priyanka’s palm is warm against her skin, and her fingers are sure as she begins circling one nipple and then the other. 

“Fuck”. Lemon breathes. 

She kisses at Priyanka’s neck, messy and needy and wet. 

“-Hurry upppp. She whines. 

And usually, Priyanka would have a  _ lot _ to say about an impatient Lemon, but this time she just complies. 

_ Privileges of being a fiance? Lemon thinks the fuck yes.  _

Her hand travels back down Lemon’s stomach, and fiddles with the ties on her shorts. She undoes the delicately tied bow with ease, not stopping to rile Lemon up anymore than she already has. Thank  _ god _ \- Lemon is already picturing the smirk she’s going to get from Priyanka when she feels how wet she is, just because of a few kisses and some clumsy touching. She thrusts her hips down into Priyanka’s lap, against her hand that’s now cupping her over her panties. Priyanka has a finger rubbing at either side of Lemon’s clit through the fabric and  _ oh _ \- 

There’s that smirk. 

“That’s it-”. Priyanka hums. 

“-Such a good girl”. 

Her words are hushed, but they’re as clear as day for Lemon who’s feeling as if her whole world has narrowed to just Priyanka’s touches, her whispers and the couch that they’re sitting on. Everything feels so condensed, and she knows if Priyanka truly doesn’t hurry the hell up then she’s practically going to  _ die.  _ She’s on edge, gazing down into Priyanka’s eyes with hooded lids and a slack jaw. One of Priyanka’s hands is holding her face steady, thumb dipping into the corner of her mouth, but the other still isn’t doing enough to make her come like she needs to. 

Priyanka’s thumb - wet with her spit, confident in its descent - begins to slink down her neck. It brushes against her pulse point and then her collarbones, taking full advantage of where Lemon’s sweater has slipped off of her shoulder. Priyanka makes a point of dragging the fabric down further with her teeth, and Lemon doesn’t hold back a whimper when her lips wrap around a sensitive nipple. It makes her hips jolt, and Priyanka sucks harder in response to the reactions that she pulls from her. 

_ She’s such a fucking tease.  _

“ _ Priyanka- _ ”. Lemon warns, though her voice is hardly threatening. 

It comes out in wavers and wobbles and whines.

“-Make me come, god damn it”. She pleads. 

Priyanka looks up at her, and lets out a low moan of her own. Lemon nods her head, Priyanka’s touch finally,  _ finally _ slipping under the lace of her underwear. The tips of her fingers press against Lemon’s clit, and the direct contact is enough to have her hips bucking, body almost folding into Priyanka’s. She whimpers, hums, and any and all comebacks that she might have had suddenly cease to exist. They vanish into thin air, as does her composure, but as far as she’s concerned she doesn’t want it back. 

“Ok?”. Priyanka checks. 

And of course it’s more than ok, but Lemon still wants a little more. 

With one hand balanced on Priyanka’s shoulder, she wraps the fingers of her other around Priyanka’s wrist. A whispered  _ please _ and a gentle push forces Priyanka to adjust her arm, and then Lemon is filled with two of her fingers. She sinks down onto them as Priyanka thrusts upwards, and then clenches just to feel more. Priyanka takes this hint easier than the last one, then quickly adds a third finger. The stretch of it burns ever so slightly, but the palm that presses against Lemon’s clit on each crook of her fingers just keeps making her wetter. 

So much so that Priyanka has the audacity to wink at her. 

_ This bitch.  _

“You wanna come?”. Priyanka teases. 

Lemon nods, nails digging into Priyanka’s shoulders. 

“Yeah,  _ yes _ , fuck-”. She gasps. 

“-Yessss, Pri,  _ god _ ”. 

When Lemon moans, Priyanka stills. 

As Lemon comes, Priyanka kisses her. 

And then when Priyanka tells her that she loves her, Lemon tells her that she loves her, too. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on Tumblr @ jancox! Feel free to pop over for a chat!!


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